


Snake Charmed

by ZeroGravityBaconator



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Dark Crowley (Good Omens), Multi, Principality Aziraphale (Good Omens), Tags May Change, Warnings May Change, Yes Song Lyrics May Have Been Involved
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:01:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28146522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZeroGravityBaconator/pseuds/ZeroGravityBaconator
Summary: Good Omens Dark AU in which Crowley is actually good at being a demon, one of the most intimidating on earth.Aziraphale is sent to balance out his more-than-wily activities, and is rewarded in Heaven accordingly.Unbeknownst to him, Crowley simply let him win.Not for the faint at heart or the sensitive reader!*The first chapter is more or less an introduction to the quick-flow of this fanfiction. No slow burn here, guys, gals and nonbinary pals, this baby is going full-throttle.*Expect the explicit stuff to grow in intensity and frequency.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter 1

"I gave it away-!" 

The scene played out in Crowley's head just as it did so many years ago atop the bordering walls of the Garden of Eden. He remembered feeling surprised, intrigued, impressed and even a bit turned on by his counterpart's confession. A wide smile that spoke volumes had crossed his lips that afternoon. Curiosity about the Guardian of the Eastern Gate that had been present since Day 1, had only been growing ever since. 

"Not to mention the warm feeling in my chest when the clouds had begun to roll in," Crowley said, confiding in his friend, Farrokh Bulsara.

Crowley went on, brushing his longer-length hair behind his shoulder. "It was like being comfortable, even though I could have been in direct enemy fire. My heart hurt to be so close to this dangerous person and I don't know why."

"Anthony, my friend," Farrokh said. "you need to write some serious poetry. Your words are sweet, almost like honey, but they also have a sadness to them. It sounds almost as if you are in love with this other man and you are beating yourself up about it."

Crowley simply cocked an eyebrow at Farrokh, his eyes sheilded by his glasses. Heavy cigarette smoke permeating the air of the diner they sat in. It was Farrokh's lunch hour and Crowley had decided to take him out for a sandwich and a malt- whatever those were.

"You see," Farrokh wiped his mouth with a napkin. "the world doesn't take kindly to people like you just yet." 

"The world never took kindly to me." Crowley grumbled, shaking his head and looking down at the salt-and-pepper tabletop.

"And it might never." Farrokh said "Look at me, I know people around here don't like me too much, but that doesn't stop me from being myself. I still get up, go to school, go to work and do my daily routine. It doesn't matter what other people think about you, you need to like you."

"Hm...." The demon hummed and rubbed his chin slowly. "do you like you?" 

"If I am honest, I wish I were more like the majority of Britain's people." Farrokh told Crowley with a shrug. "But no matter how much I want that, it'll never happen. Not in this life anyway- so I work with what I have." The boy looked down at his watch and stood up, grabbing his pack. "I have to be getting back to class, Anthony. Thank you for lunch- I'll pay next time." 

"Ah, don't worry about it." He shrugged and watched as his friend disappeared out the diner's doorway. The demon clicked his tongue with a sigh and took what little was left of his friend's malt, stirring it slowly with the straw. 

"In love with an angel." Crowley whispered to himself, scoffing. "No, it was just a one time thing. I was just happy to have decent company...." The demon's mind wandered back to his time spent in the supposed safety of Eden.

"Are you the one paying?" A high, sweet voice caught the demon's attention and reeled him back to the present. Crowley looked up from the table to see a younger light blonde-haired woman with sparkling blue eyes, he glanced at her namw tag which read 'Christine'. 

"Hn? Oh yeah," Crowley nodded, lifting his hips to pull out his black, leather wallet. He flipped it open, carding through it, but knowing damn well it would hold the exact amount needed. "How much is it?" 

"Three pence and five." She replied, her pink lip gloss highlighting her pretty, plump lips. 

Crowley smiled up at her, his canines just barely peeking over his bottom lip. "I have enough for the food," He purred, a temptation lining his words. "but not so much for a tip. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?"

The girl smirked down at him and around an hour later, Crowley found himself securing another soul for Hell, all while being tongue deep inside of a reverend's twenty-four year old and very rebellious daughter.

The demon certainly didn't mind tainting the humans' souls in this way. Lust was actually the second most enjoyable sin to tempt into. (First was greed because it was quite multipurpose.) However, Crowley was very much unaware that his subconscious chose this human in particular because, somewhere in his mind, she reminded him of a certain Principality. 

Nevermind the girlish moans and whimpers as he sucked on her clit, and the round, plush curves of her hips had only served to feed his inward fantasy of thoroughly debauching said angel. No, the demon was perfectly content to enjoy this little bit of side work. 

He swallowed her juices as she came harshly into his mouth before pulling away and licking his lips. "Mmm...better than malts, darling." Crowley purred, with a smile and Christine hummed in contentment. "How's that for a tip?"

"Worth every penny." She flashed that award winning smile again and giggled, watching Crowley stand. "Will I ever see you again, Anthony?" 

The demon chuckled deeply, leaning over her, dipping his head closer to hers, their lips ghosting over each other. "Not sure, angel. I was just passing through." 

"Passing through? A devil like you?"

"A devil? Really now?" He smirked, running a warm hand over her exposed thigh. 

"Oh yes, Anthony- My own private sin."

"Sweetheart, you don't know the half of it. Say now, why don't you give me your phone number and I'll call you next time I'm feeling-" He leaned down to her ear and whispered something that made Christine's lower half twinge in excitement and color rush to her round cheeks.

Christine reached up to her nightstand and snatched a post-it note, scribbling down her number with a pen from her breast pocket. "Here you go." She smiled charmingly.

The demon pulled away with an absolutely wicked grin, the paper in his hand disappearing from her view, as he felt the sudden pull of sin against the girl's aura. He straightened himself and headed for her bedroom door.

"Good-bye, Christine." 

"Until we meet again, Mr. Crowley." 

"I'm sure we will-" The demon sing-songed out the front door.

Outside, the demon slipped into the front seat of his Bentley and started up the vintage vehicle, pulling away from the curb with the taste of Christine Ansbury fading from his tongue.

"Call Aziraphale." Crowley spoke aloud and his cell that had been carelessly tossed aside beeped as it obeyed his command. Mostly because it knew better.

It wasn't two rings before a cheerful voice answered. "A. Z. Fell and Co. Booksellers-!"

"Drop the act, Aziraphale. It's me." 

"Oh," Crowley could pratically hear the smile in the angel's voice. "Crowley, I'm so pleased to hear from you and, actually, this isn't an act! I've just got a hold of a rare copy of Ptolemy's Geographia Cosmographia. I'm just about to open the box, it should be in near-mint condition."

"Oh, issit?" Crowley asked as he smacked his lips and swallowed.

"Ye- Crowley are you eating?" 

"Yeah, something like that-" The demon swallowed again, his friend's words echoing in his ears. 

_'Work with what you have.'_

"Why, I don't believe you've eaten since that peach in 1576-!" The angel chimed. 

"Hey, angel, did you want to go out for dinner?" 

"Out to dinner?" He asked, stammering a bit. "I don't know, Crowley, I-" 

"You don't have to, Aziraphale. It's just an offer, no strings or hard feelings." The demon waited in near-silence as he looked from his car window. "I know you have your newest book and I'm sure you want to have at it."

The demon sounded so pitiful and so resigned that the angel grew so flustered. Crowley never needed a miracle to tempt Aziraphale, all he had to was ask. "Oh, Crowley- fine, fine. I accept your offer. Our usual?" 

"I was thinking of something casual." Crowley replied, the beginnings of a fanged smile playing at his lips. "How about a diner?"


	2. Buy Now!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale and Crowley return from their dinner and the night changes-!

The dinner had gone just as expected: Swimmingly. Most of their dinners went off without a hitch, regardless of the eatery's location or style. Crowley had made sure of that. 

If a cut of meat seemed to raw or too overcooked for the angel, he would miracle it perfect before Aziraphale even noticed the flaw. He would do the same for the angel's drinks and desserts. 

Too much sugar-syrup in the soda? Not at all. 

Too little apricot-dijon sauce atop the salmon? Not a chance in Hell.

However. there were some things that even a miracle cannot control. For instance, there was a particular incident involving a loose hound that invaded a Thai restaurant.

Aziraphale had begged Crowley to take him to try out the small restaurant, desperately wanting to try their version of Pad Thai Gai.

As it turns out, the bloodhound that lived in the backalley had the same idea. 

Noodles and chicken were flung across tables and chairs, soup was spilled onto the tile floor, one woman screamed and Crowley had ended up with soda-sticky shoes and a wet track of dog slobber on his cheek. Aziraphale, on the other hand, had since devolved into an epitome of laughter at the sight of the usually slick-looking demon who now looked to be disheveled and a bit more than grumpy. 

It was from that point on, and Crowley would not be swayed on this, that Thai food was for take-out _only_.

Luckily, the diner was not partial to Thai food and, therefore, not on Crowley's blacklist. No, this night's dinner went off without a hitch, hiccup, haywiring or any other potential hootenannies otherwise.

The angel simply ate his fill as the demon watched him the entire time with patient interest, his yellow eyes seemingly trained on Aziraphale from behind his dark sunglasses all throughout the evening.

Watching intently, albeit a tad dreamily, as the food passed the angel's lips and settled behind them. Crowley especially loved when Aziraphale's tongue would dart out to lick up a bit of cream or sauce that somehow, momentarily, escaped it's fate. He wasn't too bashful to admit he had dreamed about that tongue and the things he could teach it.

(However, he was just bashful enough to never tell the angel directly.)

Occasionally, Aziraphale would offer him a bite of food: 

"Please try this apple torte, Crowley."

or

"Such a pleasant little cut of prime, eh- would you like a nibble?" 

And like fish to a hook, the demon would accept the offered food. Although, it wasn't to satisfy any physical hunger. No, Crowley took the bait if only to see the angel smile. 

As far as the demon was convinced, he would eat just about anything to see Aziraphale genuinely smile. He loved the way the angel's eyes twinkled and how his smile would slowly widen into one that bore semblance to that of an excited and hopeful child as he asked, "How is it?" 

In the glory and awe of all things cliche, let's just say that Aziraphale's smile was practically the emodiment of all things cherubim and Crowley fucking loved it. That smile could turn his whole day around in an instant.

Now, the drive back to Aziraphale's shop was a nice, calm one. The demon even rolled down his windows to catch the cool night air as they drove steadily through SoHo via low-key miracle. His watch had read ten o'clock by the time they left the diner and the small numbers softly clicked over to ten o'seven as he pulled the Bentley into a perfect parallel park.

Aziraphale looked over to Crowley with that small, almost shy smile. "Thank you, Crowley, dinner was wonderful." 

"Just wonderful?" The-head teased, brushing back a stray tress of wavy hair, the thin hairtie that had been holding back half a ponytail was trying with all its might to hang in there. 

"Oh, you know what I meant." The angel replied, clearing his throat and looking out the window absent-mindedly. 

Crowley swallowed himself, taking his hands from the steering wheel and taking a breath that he didn't necessarily need. 

"Can I-"  
"Would you-" 

The spoke at the same time, it was Crowley who smiled this time, albeit smugly. "Go on angel." 

Aziraphale looked flushed. "Would you like to come in for a drink?"

"When have I ever turned down alcohol?" He grinned as the angel rolled his eyes and moved to exit the car. 

Crowley followed suit, locking the Bentley with one quick snap before following Aziraphale into the cozy, old-fashioned bookshop. As usual, the place was cluttered with books and yet, nary a speck of dust or dirt on any service. 

(Aziraphale would admit that he'd used a few 'frivolous miracles', as Sandalphon had put it, to keep his shop and precious books neat and tidy. )

"So," The angel started as he walked to the back room, pulling two glasses from the shelf. "what'll it be tonight? Vintage 1763 or 1882?" 

"Why not both?" Crowley asked from the doorframe of the angel's backroom, he was leaning against the wooden paneling, simply watching Aziraphale. 

"Hm. I suppose you are right, dear boy." Aziraphale replied. "Two of each ought to the trick." 

The demon smiled at the word, 'trick'. 

_'And what trick would that be, angel?'_ His mind unhelpfully supplied.

Aziraphale carried the glasses into the small gathering room where he sat them down before pulling two bottles of red wine seemingly from nowhere. Crowley sat across from Aziraphale, but still close enough that the angel was kept within easy reach. Desert-amber eyes watched as the wine was poured, swished about and then delicately served before him. 

"It does smell absolutely divine." The angel hummed, taking in the wine's presence as if it were some fine art to appreciate for a moment.

"That it does, angel." Crowley nodded, taking a long sip. "'Smooth too, given how old it's gotten."

"Smooth but strong, Crowley." The angel reminded. "Don't let it sneak up on you." 

"I'm a snake, Aziraphale, I do all the sneaking around here." 

"You wily serpent." The angel chuckled and took his first taste, but certainly not the last of that night.

Sometime later, the two found themselves with a pleasant sort of drunken buzz upon their corporations, neither one really making much sense to the other. 

Crowley half-hummed, half-chuckled as he felt the warmth of the wine take over his body. "You do realize that I will drink every bottle on this table if you don't stop me."

"If you can't beat them, as they say." Aziraphale joked, cheeks rosy and blushed with the alcohol. And there it was again, that quick and precise tongue trailing across the angel's already tempting lips to bring in some stray droplets of the red wine.

Crowley subconsciously licked his own lips as he watched the angel, his own mouth suddenly alive. "Hey, ya, Aziraphale?" 

"Hm?" The angel asked, blinking slowly but with a small smile upon his lips. "Yes, Crowley?" 

The demon shifted to be closer to the angel, his stomach in a bit of a knot, but the wine kept him from becoming a nervously clumsy wreck (but perhaps a drunken wreck instead) as he worked himself up to speak. "I- ah, I have something to tell...you." He slurred. 

"Crowley, dearest Crowley... I have something to tell you too." 

"Y- you do?" 

The two were already close when Aziraphale nodded, and leaned forward to tell Crowley: "I believe that this wine is the best we've ever had." 

"Best we've ever had?" Crowley asked, quirking an eyebrow and looking at the drunken angel before him. 

Aziraphale scrunched his face up in a tight smile and nodded with a hum. "Yes'im."

Crowley looked at the angel and watched him as his features slowly relaxed back into whatever calm, comfortable emotion was painted on his face before the declaration. 

"I have to say that I disagree, angel." Crowley said, swallowing again as the words in his throat were delayed by the mesmerizing blue of the angel's own crystal irises looking back into Crowley's dirty gold orbs.

"You don't agree? Oh bugger, I knew I should've brought the wine from Genova." 

Crowley hung his head for a moment, the silence serving as his response.

"Are you alright?" Aziraphale asked the now quiet demon. 

"M'fine," Crowley replied, looking up. "that's just not what I meant is all." 

"Not what you meant? Well then, please explain, Crowley." Aziraphale prompted, the quiet of his voice stayed on, as did the calmness of his expression. "What did you mean?"

It was then that Crowley knew there was no turning back now; nor will he likely have the courage necessary to arrange another chance like this. His drunken mind had put in the idea that this was his one shot, his one opportunity, one moment to capture those perfectly plump lips against his own for the very first time.

"I only meant that there must be other, better wines out there." He said, tilting his head a bit to the right. 

"Better wines?" Questioned the angel who had, noticably, glanced down at Crowley's lips. 

"Oh, yes, way better than vintage." The demon pushed a bit closer, mouth parted only slightly as their noses ghosted each other. 

The angel's already blushing skin seemed to glow faintly as he let out a strangled breath, anxious to be in such close proximity to the handsome demon he had known for such a long time. His heart thrummed in his chest and his abdomen felt fluttery. 

Aziraphale knew he harbored some affection for the demon, and he kept that affection closely guarded and undetectable by Heaven itself. Even so, throughout time, they had crossed each other's paths, ate from each other's plates so many times, and even bathed in the same Roman bathhouses together, it really was some small wonder that they haven't shared a moment like this before.

Then suddenly, the sensation of warm lips against his, brought the angel back from his thoughts. 

The taste of each other blended together nicely with the vintage wines, settling a sharp, but pleasant taste on Crowley's lips as he pushed against Aziraphale's own. He hummed softly as he felt the angel's gentle, but strong hands holding his cheeks lightly.

It took a bit of prodding on Crowley's part, but he managed to slip his own tongue past the angel's lips to further deepen this kiss they shared. Thin, lengthy fingers found their way into the angel's platinum hair, cradling his skull gently. It was a long kiss, one that poured every year and ounce of yearning into one swift action full of meaning and intent. 

The feeling, the taste and the rush of the kiss all felt so new to them, so different than anyone else either party had locked lips with before. And it was because of this newness, both angel and demon promptly forgot that their corporations needed to breathe on occasion. 

Crowley was the first to pull away, chest heaving, mouth agape as he looked to see Aziraphale in the same condition he had found himself. 

"Oh, Crowley, you meant..." The angel breathed, placing a hand over his heart. "Better than vintage, surely, but I'll be damned if that wasn't the most intense-"

Crowley shook his head with a smile, unable to help himself. "That was only a test run, Aziraphale." 

"Well, Crowley if that was a test run, then- well... sign me up for the footrace-!" The angel smiled prettily as he giggling at his own words. 

Crowley chuckled warmly at the angel's declaration before leaning in to push against those plump and now, a bit swollen lips once more. The angel responded in likewise fashion, pushing back toward the demon. 

"Mm, upstairs?" Crowley asked, the two words light and drawn out. 

"I was hoping you'd say that." Blue eyes settled on a pair of loving amber. 

Crowley offered the angel his hand, which was taken rather softly and the demon found himself absolutely flushed at the thought of being in the same room as this, astoundingly handsome and only _slightly_ bastard angel. It floored the demon's ego that he hadn't even needed a temptation to draw Aziraphale close, even more so knowing that this holy and pure being wanted to kiss him, and now, wanted to lie with him.

Crowley could not ask for more than that. 

As the two ascended, somewhere outside, a human just passed in front of the condecending purple eyes of one Archangel Gabriel. He had come to earth from Heaven to deliver a few files to the Principality Aziraphale as well as a have a personal chat with him. 

The archangel had found himself making quite a few special trips solely to visit the earth-assigned angel and, truth be told, it was growing weary on Gabriel's shoulders. He would much rather be in his spacious head office collecting blessings reports and inspecting miracle charges than be down on crowded, foul-smelling earth. To be honest, it made his corporation's skin crawl. 

With a heavy sigh and a slight shake of his head, Gabriel walked across the street and miracled himself entry into Aziraphale's shop, looking up as the tiny bell above the door tinkled softly.

"What was that?" Aziraphale lifted his head from where Crowley had pinned the angel under him as he kissed down the line in his throat. 

"Hn?" The demon asked, lifting his head quickly. 

"There was a sound and-"

"Aziraphale-!" A familiar voice shouted impatiently from downstairs. 

"Oh good lord, it's Gabriel-!" The angel said in hushed panic. 

"Maybe he'll just go away?" Crowley asked quietly, daring to sound a bit hopeful.

Aziraphale's disproving face spoke in volumes. 

"Alright, alright-" The demon moved away from the angel and promptly resigned himself to shifting into a snake and slithering underneath Aziraphale's plush and under-slept-in bed and pulled his tail under the dust ruffle. 

"Right-" Aziraphale huffed and quickly straightened his collar, waistcoat and bowtie. With snap, which was little more than an afterthought, he managed to clear away the effort he'd conjured up in the midst of his previous activities. 

"Aziraphale-!" 

"Coming, Gabriel!" 

Crowley watched as brown shoes stepped lightly across the floor, and could only listen as his angel walked down six, maybe seven stairs until he stopped. Then there was a murmured exchange before Aziraphale's footsteps signaled to Crowley that he had finished his decent. 

While under the bed, the demon was quietly stewing about his rudely interrupted snogging session with the grand object of his affections.

_'Bugger off already, Gabriel.'_ He thought to himself. _You are ruining all that I have to work with._

Yellow, eyelid-less orbs stared at dust and dark wood as Crowley waited impatiently for Aziraphale to return. 

As it turns out, that wait was only about fifteen minutes long. Neat footsteps signaled Aziraphale's ascension, followed by a heavy sigh. "Crowley?" 

The black and red snake peeked out from under the bed and looked up at the angel. 

"You may come out now, dearest." 

The head dipped away once more before the enture length of snake emerged, it's features quickly morphing back into the demon's human corporation. "What was that about, eh?" 

"I am terribly sorry, Crowley." The angel started. "I fear I must leave. Now. For Bangladesh." 

The demon's face took on that twisted, disapproving look. "Bangladesh?" He asked, sounding bewildered. 

"Yes, it seems another altercation has arisen. Something about a border dispute." 

"Ah-" Crowley replied, sounding disappointed. He frowned at Aziraphale, pouting like a child. 

"Now, Crowley, we've had our fun for tonight." He gently chided, proceeding to pull a tan leather bag from his closet.

"Had our fun? Angel, we've only just touched lips. Besides, how can you help a couple of humans with a fencing problem?" 

Aziraphale gave him a stern look that dared the demon to say something more. "Crowley, I want to go further with you, I really would like to, but-" 

"But you have your orders, yeah, I know." The demon sighed, looking down and hooking his hands on his already too-small pockets. 

The angel stepped away from his packing and smiled softly, his hand softly cupping the demon's chin once more before tilting it up again. "I'll be back before you know it." 

"Miss you already." 

The two shared a quick, but no less meaningful kiss. Aziraphale's free hand resting lightly on the demon's chest.

"Be good, Crowley." The angel said when Crowley turned to leave. 

"Not on my life, Aziraphale." Came the quick and teasing reply. 

They both chuckled softly before parting finally and Crowley walked out of the angel's door and back out into the world. He looked back to the top floor of the bookshop before resigning himself to his Bentley. 

Crowley slipped himself into the front seat and sighed just before starting the car and looking strangely as the radio clicked over. 

"The ... devil is calling-!" A voice came through. "Beelzebub...wants you..to..buy now!" 

Crowley growled. "Damn radio." He muttered and adjusted the dial until the message came in clearer. 

"Bangladesh, Crowley. 1971... major casualties, make it happen." 

_'Bangladesh, eh?'_ He thought to himself. _'Pretty revolutionary this time of year.'_

The radio clicked over once more to a slow jazz channel and Crowley smiled a fanged smile. _'Pretty angelic, too.'_


	3. Kids

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley's assignment intersects with Aziraphale's own, but not in a way he could've imagined.

_**"There were hundreds of casulties and more attacks are likely."** _

A news reporter spoke solemnly on the television as a certain demon padded across a poorly lit room that was absolutely covered with news clippings and photographs. Each photo and paragraph was just a piece of evidence procing the growing unrest concerning the borders between Bangladesh and India. Most deaths were civilians trying to cross the border into India.

Crowley had no hand in those. The deaths of guardsmen, however, those he played a big role. From seducing one guard to cheat with a woman on his best friend, to planting the idea of murder into that best friend's head. Never once did he possess anyone, no, he simply supplied them the effective means by which to sin. As a demon of temptation, the powers of suggestion were not a thing to be trifled with.

Crowley had been in Bangladesh for four years now, steadily collecting souls.

His shoes drug lightly across the floor as he paced. Tonight there would be yet another dispute between civilians and guardsmen, all thanks to the power of suggestion. 

And it was thanks to that same power, that Crowley would be the man leading one guard straight to the civilian party. Even he knew it was morally wrong, but this wasn't his decision.

Crowley knew he simply had to deliver.

The demon was keeping his head office busy with the promise of murdered souls and new, corrupted souls to be collected in a few years time. Hell was perfectly satisfied with all Crowley had _supposedly,_ purposefully done. Yet, the demon felt he had to keep up his numbers.

This was because, without a doubt in his mind, Crowley believed Hell already knew that there was an angel in Bangladesh. This fact made the demon more than worried about which alternate demon they'd send if they thought Crowley could not handle his assignment.

Hell could be surprisingly efficient.

Back and forth the demon paced until the sun went down and night had fallen. With a quick change of apparel and a few minor bodily features, Crowley wrapped himself in a ruby red shawl and left his rented room in a hurry. 

Outside the small home he was staying in, Crowley found the streets to be bustling. People hurrying to and fro to make it home in time for dinner. Some carried bread and fruits with them, some led goats, but most were just happily walking home after a full day's work. 

The demon would usually stop and chat with the children running about, or to pet the animals, but tonight, he had to be on his way. The caravan would arrive at midnight and if Crowley was not there, he would be missing out on a big score for Hell and therefore, security for Aziraphale.

It was chilly that evening as Crowley made his way up to the border, waving down a guardmen, a pleading look upon his face. 

"Please-! Sir, help-!" He cried out in a language the man could understand. 

Without missing a beat, the guardsman looked up and nodded to his partner before running to meet the person who cried out. He helped Crowley to his feet.

"There-!" Crowley said, pointing, shaking and looking around. "A gang of hoodlums! I was just returning from a short trip, and they jumped me! Took my bags, my money, even my good coat! Please, sir, I'm so cold-" 

The guard swallowed as a pang of sympathy hit him. His name was Advik Reddy and this was his first night on border patrol as Crowley would learn later on.

"Are they still following you?" Advik asked him, pointing his rifle in the direction Crowley pointed. 

"Yes, yes-! They've been on my trail for a while-!" The demon nodded, pretending to cower behind the guard. 

Sure enough, at eleven fifty-two, a small group of travelling immigrants showed up as a mass on the hill. There were roughly six heads to be counted, three were children. Two looked to be adults and the last was huddled over, likely an elderly woman.

"They don't look like hoodlums." Advik commented. 

"That's how they tricked me," Crowley claimed. "the old woman is not an old woman at all-!"

Advik drew his rifle up to sights and shouted. "Identify yourselves!" 

The mass up ahead slowed for a moment and then started to break off into sections. 

Advik whirled about, settling on chasing one group of what looked to be two adults. He ran after them, shouting halt. Meanwhile, the other three figures took off back in the direction of which they came. 

Crowley huffed as gun shots sounded from behind him. Three souls would not be enough to keep his angel safe. 

A week later, Crowley was in a popular area of the city, sitting under an awning and sipping a cup of hot coffee as he marked a few things in the newspaper. That was just a hobby of his, finding out the next big technological advance or what kind of music the humans were bringing up now. He'd most recently heard of something brand new called: Metal music. The term confused him- Had humans gone back to banging iron rods together for entertainment? 

"Crowley?" Came a familiar voice from behind the newspaper. 

The demon moved the corner of the paper aside to look at who had addressed him. It was none other than Aziraphale-! 

"Oh, Crowley, I knew it was you behind that newsprint." The white-haired angel smiled and hummed, obviously happy with this new discovery. The demon looked around Aziraphale when he noticed a small hand grasping the angel's pant leg. Aziraphale stopped his train of thought and moved aside to present his small companion. "Crowley, I'd like you to meet Alisha."

"How do you do?" Crowley asked the little girl, thinking her big green eyes and long brown hair to be rather cute.

Alisha shyly shrank back behind Aziraphale. 

"Oh, poor dear experienced something so terrible." The angel explained. "Hasn't said a word since." 

Crowley cocked an eyebrow. "Something terrible?" 

"I'd rather not discuss it so openly around Alisha. The wound is still fresh." 

"Ah, I see." 

Crowley reached into his pocket and slipped out a coin before taking the child's hand and pressing the coin into it. "Go get yourself a something tasty." 

The girl accepted and slipped over to the small pastry cart nearby. 

"That was very generous of you." Aziraphale smiled warmly, as if his heart was set ablaze. 

"Oh cut it out, Aziraphale." Crowley waved his hand, the compliment both pleasing and disgusting him. "So what's been going on with you?"

"Just doing my job, you know? A miracle here, a blessing there, currently playing guardian to young Alisha." 

"Guardian? Where's her parents?" 

"Well you see, Crowley, that's just it." The angel said. "Alisha's parents were murdered attempting to cross the border. It happen just one week ago." 

The demon could just about sink into the ground. In fact, he wished it would swallow him up right then and there- chair, newspaper and all. He must've had an expression change because Aziraphale spoke again.

"I know, it's a tragedy." The angel looked back at Alisha, who was still waiting in line, then he turned back to the demon with a sigh. "She lost both parents and now her brother has gone missing. I'm just hoping he's still alive."

"Feel sorry for the kid." Crowley licked his lips, suddenly dry from the guilt and anxiety.

"Well," Aziraphale tilted his head. "there might be a way you can help Alisha." 

Crowley squinted behind his glasses. He knew that look- that was the look Aziraphale got when he was about to ask the demon for a favor. "And what is that?"

"Look after Alisha for me." 

"Look- look after her?" 

"It's only until tomorrow night. Now, Crowley, I know how wonderful you are with children! So protective and caring-!" Aziraphale gushed. "Why, the children before the Great Flood. You wanted to save them all as I recall." 

"Kids, Aziraphale-! I meant baby goats!" 

The angel look at him disbelievingly. "You and I both know that is not true."

The demon felt caught, he couldn't refuse his angel, no matter his guilt, and yet if Crowley did take the girl's life into his hands, he ran the risk of Hell finding him out. Yes, there was always lying, but how long could he hold out under pressure?

"I- I uh-" Crowley shrugged and looked to the angel, and the demon could've sworn he was seeing things, but Aziraphale's eyes looked wider and more blue somehow. "Okay, fine. I'll watch the girl."

The angel looked (and probably was) positively glowing. "Oh, thank you, Crowley. This is great news, now I can work on gathering enough people together to form another caravan." 

"Another caravan?" Crowley asked, a barely disguised fear sinking into his voice. "Oh, I don't know, Aziraphale- those guards are- nnhhh-" The demon shuddered. 

"Well, what do you propose I do?" 

"Just, ah- miracle her into India." 

"Oh, yes, dear boy. Just poof a seven-year-old girl into the maddening fray of a country within the thralls of a revolution. Yes, very smart." 

"Have you a better plan?" 

"The caravan." 

Crowley got defensive. "Will you stop with the caravan already?!"

"Crowley-!" Aziraphale scolded as Alisha returned, eating a piece of sugary fried bread. The angel quickly righted himself as the girl took a seat between them. "There is no need to shout."

Alisha looked to Aziraphale and blinked, when he turned his full body toward her. 

"Alisha, my sweet girl, I have some very important errands to run and I need you to stay with my friend here." Aziraphale gestured to Crowley. "He will make sure you are cared for and protected while I am gone. When I return, you and I will head for your auntie in India. Is that okay by you?" 

Alisha glanced over at Crowley, who tilted his head. The girl took another bite of her snack and nodded, still staring at the demon. 

"Oh, splendid-!" Aziraphale stood with a chuckle and a smile. "I'll get to work right away. Don't you worry, Alisha, we will get you across that border one way or another. Thank you again, Crowley!" 

"No problem, angel." He replied as Aziraphale patted Alisha's head and then promptly left. 

The demon sighed when the angel walked away, turning his attention back to Alisha as soon as Aziraphale was out of sight. 

"So...." Crowley started, drumming his fingers against the tabletop. "Do you like television?"

\--

Crowley and Alisha arrived back at his rented room, the demon unlocked the door with a snap, which is probably why he hadn't heard the bolt unlatch, as he walked inside, Alisha right behind him. The demon miracled up a television for the girl, who sat comfortably in front of it while Crowley made his way to the small kitchen of his little room.

As soon as he turned the corner, Crowley felt a heavy hand over his neck and mouth as he was pulled backward. 

"M-er-hhr!-" He shouted from behind a gloved hand that was planted over his mouth. 

The demon found himself being dragged back toward the living room, Alisha screaming with her back against the far wall. 

Crowley's first thought was Hell found out.  
Hell found out and this was his punishment- to watch the girl die. Except, he noticed he smelled no sulphur. No rotting. No mold. This had to be a human interference. 

The demon pulled against the restraint that had been placed on his hands, keeping him from snapping himself free. Try as he might, the fabric that had been tied over his hands was slowly burning him and, effectively, neutralizing his own demonic energy. The burn was strangely familiar as the demon realized that it may have some sort of religious symbol on it.

Was it a coincidence or did these people somehow know he was a demon?

"Stop resisting-!" One of the assailants grouched at him, jerking the demon roughly. Then the man moved his hand from Crowley's mouth. "Anything seems odd or out of place and we kill the girl."

Yellow eyes looked toward a very terrified and wide-eyed Alisha, who was being held at gunpoint. The girl was barely holding back tears and shaking like a leaf. 

"We know who you are." The man holding Crowley still said. "And you're going to tell us what you know about Mr. Fell." 

"Mr. Fell?" Crowley repeated. "What makes you think I know a Mr. Fell?" 

"Don't fuck with me, Crowley. We saw you two outside at the tables. We heard the story!" 

"Oh," The demon said, nodding. "yes, yes, Mr. Fell- I had only just met him the other day." 

"And he trusts you with his ward?" 

"Obviously not a smart man-" 

The man jerk Crowley again, this time hitting the side of his cheek with the butt of a pistol, and the demon was sure he heard a tooth crack. 

"We will kill her-!" The man shouted, pressing Crowley's head against the hard countertop. "Tell me about his caravan, or her brain becomes your new wallpaper." 

"Okay, okay, alright." Crowley shuffled about with a wheeze. "I'll tell you, but please- let me off my chest."

The man jerked him to stand upward and theat was when Crowley threw his head back. 

"Shit-!" The man behind him cursed, holding his now broken nose, blood dribbling down from the wound.

The demon bolted from the kitchen, and shoved his whole body against the man who was pointing a shotgun at Alisha. The offender fell to the ground, his shotgun skittering across the scratched and dirty floor.

"Run-!" Crowley screamed and the little girl took off for the door, only to be ensnared by the man with a bloody nose. 

"Get over here, girl!" He shouted, holding the same pistol to her head that Crowley once had against his own cheek. "One more chance- Information. Now-!" 

"Okay-" Crowley said, panic and dread slowly consuming him. The demon hated to oust Aziraphale, but he couldn't let Alisha die for what he'd done. He spoke quickly. "The caravan is supposed to go over the border tomorrow night- I don't know what time. Mr. Fell will be leading them- just please, let her go." 

"You know," The man with the injured nose sniffled and nodded. "I would have let you two go, but- you just had to break my nose."

The gun's chamber clicked as a bullet fell into place. 

Crowley eye's widened impossibly. "NO-!"

There was an echoing, ringing sound of gunfire, a splatter and splash of red before Crowley's world turned black and cold.


	4. Possibilities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale is disappointed in Crowley. 
> 
> Crowley knows he fucked up, but doesn't know how.

The loud sounds of car alarms and people shouting echoed out across the city, reverbing off the buildings and into people's homes, serving only to amplify the noise. The sun had since risen and there was a heaviness in the air, a kind of oppressive humidity that made one not even want to move. 

"Ah, fuck-" Crowley hissed as he lay on the stone floor of a room, his head thrumming with pain as he forced himself up. "Fuckin' bastards-" 

Yellow eyes squinted in the brightened room, only opening fully once the found his sunglasses, which had skittered away at some point in the night, and put them on. He flinched, feeling the glass' arm set against the side of his head. Surely enough, there was a bit of a bruise there, but it would heal quickly.

Crowley stood up, the floor swaying beneath him as he staggered over to a wall and leaned, palm flat against the wall. He looked around, taking in the room before him. There were black stains across the walls, some of the paint looked as if it melted or burned. On the floor were the remains of something ashen. Something reduced to dust amongst a large pool of a red liquid. A quick whiff told the demon that it was blood. Blood, gunpowder and sulphur. 

The demon whirled about on one foot, his lip curled upward in a disgusted kind of sneer as he walked unsteadily to the door. Crowley knew he needed to disappear and fast. 

He reached for the door handle with a black and red stained hand and pulled it open, only to be greeted by a little girl and a very concerned angel. 

"Oh, Crowley-" The angel said just before the demon fainted and blacked out once more. 

\----

Colors danced in front of Crowley's eyes, a swirl of blues, purples and greens that all faded against a black backdrop. He felt almost nauseous, but felt no pain until that blackness gave way into a bright white light. 

He heard nothing but silence, and he felt a light warmth against his face, as if a mother was gently holding her child's cheek. 

With a soft sigh, he opened his eyes to see the open blue sky with clouds lazily drifting over head, casting shadows onto the land below. He reached out and felt the tickling grass beneath his fingertips, and then he felt a kind of rough cloth. 

"Crowley, dearheart," A light voice mused, the demon heard the smile in those words. "you've finally awoken."

Then demon raised his head, looking for the voice that spoke to him. "Angel?" 

"Right here, darling." Aziraphale said, smiling up from a scroll he was reading. "You fell asleep during our little luncheon." 

"Lunch?" 

Crowley looked around, confused. He saw Aziraphale in his white heavenly robe, he saw familiar ferns and vines all around and then he noticed his own clothes had been changed into his old robes from Eden. 

"I- what happened?" 

The angel chuckled. "You fell sleep, silly serpent." 

Crowley rubbed his eyes and pulled away his hands to look upon a shining black vehicle parked some several feet away. He squinted and saw nothing other than his beloved Bentley, as perfect and tidy as he like it. 

'This is a dream.' Crowley thought. 'Has to be.' 

"Is something the matter, dear?" 

Crowley turned back to look upon the angel, his hair long and curly once more, bounced as he did. His amber eyes were not met by blue, but were instead met with two reflective glass orbs staring back at him, eerily similar to that of a gasmask from the fourties. 

The demon screamed and tried to scramble to his feet in an attempt to escape, but his foot was soon caught by a winding, scratching tree root. It pulled him towards a gaping maw that had suddenly appeared in the ground, a large, smelling, gnarly opening that growled over Crowley's own shouts.

A flash of purple crossed his vision and Crowley found himself reaching for the hand of one Archangel Gabriel. 

"Not again, demon." The archangel said with a scoff. "You won't corrupt the angel Aziraphale any longer."

Before Crowley could protest, a large, buzzing and living swarm of flies clutched his ankles alongside the tree roots. 

"DEMON CROWLEY REPORT FOR ZZZZZIN COUNT-!" The heavily altered voice of Beelzebub cried out from the hole. 

"No, no, no-! Angel-!" Crowley clawed and fought to get away, but was helpless as he was pulled backward and down into the hole.

\-----

Night had fallen when Crowley opened his eyes once more, he looked around, yellow eyes rolling lazily in his skull. He remembered nothing of the dream.

"Nnn-ngh?" he grunted, a dull pain in his head. 

"Oh good, you're awake." A soft voice came from somewhere in the room. "You wily demon, nearly burning down the city.

Crowley groaned, his head hurt too much for the dithering, but he was glad to hear the familiar voice of Aziraphale. Warily, the demon rose slowly to sit up. His head no longer spinning, but throbbing as if he had a headache.

"You're lucky we came back to find you." The angel went on, looking to Crowley and then back out into the streets below. He was watching the chaos unfold outside. People were everywhere, protesting and shouting. "Almost didn't make it." 

"What about the girl?" Crowley asked. 

"Alisha? I took care of her. She's back with family as I told you she would be. No thanks to you." The angel frowned, rubbing his hands together. 

"I was ambushed, Aziraphale-" Crowley mumbled in response. "hardly my fault."

"I am not upset you were ambushed, Lord knows it happens too often in this sad city, but I am rather upset with how it was handled." 

'How it was handled?' Crowley thought. He couldn't remember anything after he lost consciousness. 

"How was it handled?"

"Really, Crowley?" Aziraphale exclaimed, looking dumbfounded. "You used your powers-! On humans!" 

The demon's jaw dropped and he looked around for a moment. "I did not- I would never! I tempt, angel, I don't murder!"

"The piles of smouldering ash in your rental would beg to differ." 

Crowley gasped. "I- just- you--Ugh!" 

"The humans aren't built to handle your demonic temper-tantrum. You're lucky little Alisha hadn't been caught in the flame."

"I did not do it!" 

Aziraphale crossed his arms. "Do not think me naive, Crowley. I know when a demon's work has been done."

"Angel, look- I don't remember what happened in that apartment." Crowley said, looking at Aziraphale now, catching the angel's blue eyes with his own. "I remember being ambushed and getting the back of my skull beaten. That's it. Nothing after that. A black screen." 

Aziraphale huffed and rang his hands together nervously. "Then who," He cleared his throat. "who was it?" 

The demon shrugged. "Like I said, black screen."

The other being looked troubled, his eyebrows pushed together and his lower lip pouted. "Mayhaps you should take some time off. Some time out of our arrangement." 

Crowley swallowed, scratching his cheek and making an attempt to think, despite his head aching and his heart hurting. 

'Aziraphale must really think I killed those men.' He thought to himself. 

"I will handle India," Aziraphale told him, waving a hand almost absent-mindedly. "You go back to whatever job you were sent to do originally. I won't smite you." 

Oh, how Crowley wished the angel would smite him right then and there. He wished Aziraphale would just evaporate his entire soul and being. Hell knows it would be much less painful than the angel telling Crowley to leave. 

"Awright." He muttered, seeing no choice but to give in. Slowly, Crowley stood and made his way to the door and opened it. "See you around?" 

Aziraphale simply shrugged, his lips pursed and not looking at the demon. "Good-bye, Crowley."

The demon sighed. "Good-bye, Angel."


End file.
